So near and yet so far
by OtterAndTerrier
Summary: After years of risking their lives, Hermione has learnt some patience to bear Ron's absences. But one night renders her a helpless mum trying to hold herself together when something goes wrong with her husband.


I wrote this story as part of the HP Canon Summer Fest 2010 at LiveJournal (this was my first year, yay). The prompt I picked was:

"One of the couple is injured on a mission (with the Order/Aurors/Dumbledore's Army/the Death Eaters) and their partner takes care of them."

I came up with this idea as part of my never posted, never ending fiction of those-nineteen-years in the life of Ron and Hermione. I realised that I will never write and post the whole thing, and hence decided to use one of those "future chapters" for this challenge. It needed a lot of polishing. A tremendous lot. This look nothing like the original draft, you can count on that.

Great part of the credit goes to exartemarte, who was, more than my beta reader, my editor, and from whose corrections and suggestions I've learnt a big deal. This story is written in British English. Why? Because Ron and Hermione are British, and since I have the chance to choose, not being a native speaker, I chose BrE!

Please enjoy, and any kind and thoughtfull review will be welcome ^-^

**Disclaimer: I obviously didn't create any of the characters, places or magical mentions that follow. It belongs to JK Rowling.**

* * *

_Here I am, lost in the ashes of time, but who wants tomorrow. In between, longing to hold you again. I'm caught in your shadow. I'm losing control._

_Afterglow - INXS_

A light breeze stroked her bare neck, tickling her, but she tried to ignore it, shrinking into the sheets. The sensation persisted, and when she tried to wave it away, she felt it was kisses on her neck. _His_ kisses.

Hermione opened her eyes. Ron was there, in the bed, next to her, bending over and smiling.

'Ron, you're here,' she managed to say, happy in her slumber.

Ron nodded and smiled wider.

'Be quiet, Rosie is asleep,' he whispered, kissing behind her ear softly.

'Is it you really, Ron?' asked Hermione, distrustful.

He nodded again, chuckling.

'So what was the last word I said to you before you left this morning?'

Ron stopped and looked at her, thinking.

'You said... "Those robes make you sexy"?'

Hermione smirked.

'Wrong, Mr Weasley. The last word was "hot". You lost.'

'All right... If you want to punish me, you'll have to come for me first,' Ron replied, releasing her quickly and lying down on his side of the bed. Hermione turned over swiftly and there was nothing there. Nobody. Just the cold mattress.

Disappointed, Hermione opened her eyes, for real this time, and she could not repress a moan. She had not seen him or had news about him all day, and it was very late. She was worried, as always when he was on mission, only going to bed in the end because he did not like her to stay awake and stressed. Still less when she had to be ready for their daughter.

Hermione glanced at the clock: 2 am. That was enough, she decided, and got up, putting on a dressing gown; then quietly approached the cot and stared at her little baby breathing softly, asleep. She smiled and lovingly brushed her thin, faintly red hair. Then she went downstairs.

Crookshanks greeted her, alert, from behind a chair, as Hermione poured water into a kettle and lit the stove with her wand to make some linden tea.

She started when a bump echoed in the little kitchen; Crookshanks spat, annoyed. It was an owl, waiting with a letter on the other side of the glass door.

Her heart raced as she let it in and seized the official-looking letter. If there was anything wrong... with Ron... Fear crawled inside her now more than ever. _I used to be more rational_. Hermione often laughed at herself once relief came.

'_Dear Mrs Weasley,_

_ I am sorry to bring you __this sort of news at such a late hour, but Ron has been affected by a badly performed jinx while on Auror duty, at 11.32 pm. He has been taken to St Mungo's and is not in danger. You do not need to worry, and you can come to see him in the morning._

_ Kind regards,_

_Boris Wigworthy, Head of the Auror Office.'_

Hands trembling, frightened, feeling her soul leaving her body. That was all she could feel. It _was_ bad news. Ignoring the kettle whistling on the fire, she sprinted upstairs, nearly stumbling over her slippers, pulled a sweatshirt over her pyjamas, a pair of jeans and put on sneakers; then she carefully took Rose in her arms and wrapped her warm in a shawl. _Be cool, be cool. The bag, right._ She had thought all the essentials were packed from the last time she had left the house with Rose, but she had forgotten about the cream incident, that had forced her to clean the baby's bag. Minutes later, everything was back to where it belonged: she grabbed it along and, holding her daughter tight, Hermione Disapparated.

As soon as she felt the floor, Hermione examined the baby: this was the first time she had Disapparated with Rose, and her fears for Ron heightened her anxiety, but Rose was sleeping soundly and a smile lingered in her lips.

Hermione was about to start racing again when she realized she had not the slightest idea of where Ron could be.

'Ronald Weasley,' she snapped at the receptionist, who looked at her stony-faced.

'Good evening. First; it is not pleasant to be stuck here while rude people–'

'Ronald Weasley, please!' cried Hermione exasperated, slamming her hand on the counter.

'Fourth floor, room 102,' the witch replied.

When she reached the room, wondering whether to knock or enter in spite of her heart pressing her forwards, a Healer was closing the door behind him.

'Oh, you must be Hermione Weasley. Your husband is asleep, but you can go in,' he said, following behind her.

Now Hermione ran up to the bed where Ron was lying; she dropped to her knees and touched Ron's face lovingly, but anxious.

'What happened?' she inquired in a whisper.

'According to his team mates, he was dealing with an Imperiused wizard, but whoever performed the curse did it badly. Mr Weasley got hit by a jinx accidentally, then crashed against the window of a shop in Hogsmeade,' explained the Healer.

Hermione gasped and her eyes widened even more in fear.

'What kind of jinx?'

'Just a Stunning Spell, actually, but... badly performed too, and as he also hit quite a few objects...' replied the man, frowning. Obviously, that was not all, but Hermione had other concerns first.

'If he got hurt by 11.30, why did they let me know at 2 in the morning?' she asked, her voice trembling with outrage. 'I'm supposed to be the first to know what happens to my husband!'

'Well...' began the Healer cautiously, 'the Head of his office was the one supposed to notify you, so I can't answer for that. It took 'til midnight for his people to bring him here, then I was busy and could not take care of him immediately, as it wasn't anything... _too_ serious. And something could have delayed the owl, perhaps.'

Hermione was about to reply, when Rose stirred and opened her eyes, blinking sleepily; after that, she started crying her lungs out. Hermione rocked her, kissing her head in comfort and tapping her back, but meanwhile, Ron was roused as well.

'Oh,' said the Healer, 'You shouldn't... he wasn't–'

But Hermione was already at Ron's side, still trying to calm Rose.

'Ron! How do you feel? I... gosh, Ron...' stuttered Hermione, embracing him with her free arm. When she broke away to look at him, and keep rocking Rose, she realized that he not only had not hugged her back, or said anything, but he was looking at her in shock as though he did not know her at all.

'What's... wrong with him?' asked Hermione, weakly. Ron beckoned the Healer, who approached to allow him to whisper something in his ear, something Hermione was perfectly able to hear, and which froze her: 'Who's she?'

'No!' she shrieked. 'No... he can't... he can't be...' she repeated in distress, tears flooding her eyes. She only controlled her voice for her daughter's sake, but Hermione would have punched the Healer if she could. 'And _this_ wasn't anything serious?'

'Please, Mrs Weasley, calm down and listen to me,' asked the man in an appealing voice as Ron looked from one to the other in confusion. 'I can assure you, I bet my whole career on this, that this is just temporary: it won't last long, perhaps three or four days, and he's going to be as good as normal. You just...' he lowered his voice, 'I allow you to stay here with him, because I know it'd be pointless to tell you to go home. Talk to him if he wants you to. If you convince him, you can even take him home tomorrow. He doesn't have to take any medication: all his bruises and wounds have been healed and he only needs to rest.'

Hermione nodded, wiping her tears. Rose had stopped crying, sucking her dummy.

'Don't disturb the baby.' He conjured up a comfortable armchair and a pink carry-cot. 'Use the other bed when you decide to lie down. If you need anything, just ask. Oh, I almost forgot: there's his wand,' the Healer added, pointing at a side table, where Ron's dull wand laid. 'We have checked, and there's no damage caused to it. I wouldn't recommend him to use it in his current state, however, at least not for complex spells.'

'All right. Thanks... thank you very much.'

'You're welcome.' The Healer next addressed Ron, and told him to be quiet, that he was leaving him in good hands and that the woman was going to explain everything to him because he had lost his memory. Before any other question was asked, he left.

Ron glanced nervously at Hermione and mumbled, 'Er, hi.'

'Hi,' breathed Hermione, caressing Rose.

'What happened to me, exactly? I don't remember much...'

'You got hit with a spell last night. When you were on Auror duties,' explained Hermione with a great effort to be at ease.

'I was? So I take it I'm an Auror?' said Ron, sceptically.

'One of the best.'

'Uh huh. And what's... what else's going on with my life?' inquired Ron. 'Who are you, for instance?'

Hermione felt a lump in her throat.

'I'm... your wife. I'm Hermione.'

Ron widened his eyes.

'I... what? You, my wife? How...? How could I be married to someone like you?'

That left Hermione as if a herd of Hippogriffs had trampled on her. _Now_ she wasn't his kind, not good enough for him. Great. Perfect thing to discover after ages together.

'What do you mean?' she asked faintly.

'Well, that... look at you! Why would you marry me?' Ron's ears turned red before he added, 'You look so kind, and successful and... well, gorgeous.'

Tears streaming down her face, both in relief and pain, Hermione whispered, 'Ron, I did, I married you. I love you, as a matter of fact. And... she's Rose. Our daughter.'

In disbelief, Ron stared at the baby sleeping quietly with her dummy in Hermione's arms.

'Wow... so you and me have even... even– y'know.'

Hermione bit her lip.

'Of course we have.' She imagined what he surely felt: the discomfort of talking about your life with a person you've slept with and have a child with but you cannot remember. To break it, she offered, 'Don't you want to hold her?'

'What if I drop her, or wake her?' asked Ron, terrified.

'You won't,' replied Hermione, standing up to place Rose, their Rosie, in Ron's arms. He watched her for some time, feeling the little weight and the scent of the baby.

'She resembles you. And... well, me,' he said eventually.

'You do know what you look like?' asked him Hermione, intrigued.

'Yeah, I just don't know a thing about my life and people, I reckon. I know I'm red-haired, to say something, and so is she. So, I have to believe... that you're my wife, after all.'

Hermione nodded.

'Look at your ring.'

'What–? Oh, a wedding ring, right. I can't...' said Ron, as he had Rose. Hermione sat down on his bed and helped him to get his hand free, then took the gold ring from his finger. Ron held it up and, against the light from the floating, balloon-like lamps, he could make out the word _Hermione_ engraved on the inside.

'And yours...' Hermione handed him her own ring, which simply read _Ron_. He nodded. 'And... when am I going to recover my memory, any idea?'

'A couple of days,' said Hermione sniffing. 'You only need to rest. Ron... if you feel like it, if you trust me... tomorrow you can leave the hospital and come back home with us. I'm going to stay here for the night anyway, and if you don't want to leave, I will stay here day and night.' Hermione sounded determined.

Ron doubted.

'What about the baby, you sure you'll be able to take care of both of us?'

'I'm quite a good mum, you know,' said Hermione, attempting a half smile for the first time. 'You convinced me of that, actually.'

'Well...' Ron considered it for a moment, 'I reckon you can help me to remember a bit or... put up with me 'til this ends, so... I reckon I could go to your –our– house tomorrow. And now, what time is it?'

'A quarter past three in the morning,' replied Hermione, sighing shakily in relief.

'Merlin's beard, can we sleep? You look exhausted, and my body aches a lot.'

Hermione took Rose from her father's arms, and their eyes met inches away. Those were his blue eyes, and even in his forgetfulness, she could see a hint of that spark his eyes emitted whenever he looked at her.

Ignoring the aching lump in her throat once more, Hermione kissed him softly on his forehead.

'Goodnight.'

'Hermione?'

'Hm?'

'I do trust you.'

* * *

Rose woke Hermione up at 6 that morning to be nursed. She straightened up on the bed and held up her sweatshirt, setting the baby comfortably in her arms. Her eyes found Ron, and she stared at him, her hand brushing Rose's soft cheek. He was fast asleep, snoring slightly, and Hermione realized that the snores he had succeed in controlling were back. Perhaps as a consequence of having forgotten about everything else, she thought.

When Rose was satisfied, Hermione left her back in the borrowed carry-cot while she washed her face and tried to comb her hair.

As Ron was anything but awake, she took Rose for a stroll through the corridors, where she could get a hot drink.

'Oh, Mrs Weasley!' called somebody coming after her on her way back. It was the Healer who had talked to her the previous night. 'Your husband is awake. What are you doing, were you able to convince him to go home?'

'Yes, he said so,' replied Hermione.

'Much the better, then, because he will be more relaxed, I'm sure, and familiar surroundings will help his recovery as well. You can go and see him, and we are going to get him ready to leave as soon as you want to.'

'Good, thanks,' Hermione said, but before she left, the Healer called her back.

'I just wanted to say... that you don't get your hopes too high on him recovering immediatly. It could be by the weekend, but it also could be next week. Do not be frightened if his amnesia isn't over by Monday, but do let us know.'

Hermione nodded, gulping, and hurried up to return to the room where Ron was.

'Good morning, Ron,' said Hermione, smiling.

'Morning. We are leaving now, right?'

Ron did not look reluctant, but close to longing.

'Yes, if you want to...'

Ron smiled for the very first time since the previous night.

'Sure.'

A couple of minutes later, Hermione Disapparated with her family.

'This is it? Our house?' asked Ron, surprised once again.

'Yes, we've lived here for four years,' replied Hermione, leading him to the kitchen.

'Nice. I bet you chose it.'

'And you bought it for Christmas,' remembered Hermione, as she placed Rose back in her buggy to make breakfast. The baby caught the familiar voice of her father and seemed happy, waving her chubby fists and legs in excitement.

'She recognizes me,' pointed out Ron.

'Of course she does, Ron. She didn't lose her memory.' Hermione stopped with the mugs in her hands. 'It's that... you always make her smile.'

Ron drew the buggy closer to his chair and pressed a stuffed unicorn, which squeaked. Rose, however, was stretching her arms to him, attempting to cry at her daddy's clumsiness.

'I'm sorry. I'm sure I'm awful as a dad,' apologized Ron. Hermione shook her head, lifting up Rose.

'You're a great dad, and I couldn't be... more proud of you. It's just... it's understandable you feel uncomfortable.'

'No, I can hold her if you want... I cannot take her dad away from her only because of this... It isn't fair for someone who can't understand it.'

Ron took Rose from Hermione before she could reply, and the baby calmed down.

'Hi, Rosie. I'm... your dad.'

Hermione turned around and hid her face.

* * *

The rest of that day, Ron spent asking things about his life.

He learnt that Hermione was Muggle-born and that that was the reason why they had a 'telephone'; that they had a best friend, Harry, married to his sister Ginny, who had vanquished Lord Voldemort, powerful Dark Wizard, and that they had helped him, risking their lives.

Ron listened astonished, incredulous at all the things he was supposed to have done, but what he wanted to know the most was about his relationship with Hermione.

She told him about how they had met on the Hogwarts Express, on their way to their first year; how he had showed his dislike for her until he and Harry saved her from a troll; how, once they became friends, they bickered all the time, annoying Harry; how he had been jealous when she went to a Ball with, 'Erm... some other guy' as Hermione said, and how she wanted to kill him when he 'snogdated some other girl' as a revenge years later. But how, even then, neither of them would yield in accepting their crush. And she told him how they had kissed for the first time in the middle of a battle, the last battle, and that he had said that it was now or never.

'Wow, are you sure? It sounds like a very interesting love story, rather unusual, I reckon,' commented Ron when she finished, causing her to laugh.

* * *

'Er, Hermione?'

She looked up at him, as she rocked Rose, and gestured him to wait. Ron nodded and left the bedroom, where a big full moon could be seen outside through the window. She wondered why he wasn't staying in.

'What?' she asked him, closing the door behind her. Ron had just taken a shower and was wrapped in one of his blue dressing gowns, his hair clean and messy red.

'Um... where am I going to sleep?'

Hermione looked puzzled for a moment.

'In... the bed?'

Ron seemed embarrassed.

'Yeah, but I mean... Listen: please don't feel hurt, 'cause I believe you're my wife, and I know... but I can't– I can't sleep with you.'

He clearly saw the woman's face was colourless: Hermione's heart was, in fact, sinking.

'Don't misunderstand me; I'd love to, 'cause you're... well, you're great, you don't deserve this, but... geez, this is all so bizarre, it's as though I'm borrowing someone else's life, d'you know what I mean?'

Hermione knew that it was worse than that. It was as though she was living with a clone of Ron, and even pretending, she could not have her husband back.

'I... ah, I hope it's going to end soon, all this, because, frankly, it's horrible. I know that I should love you and yet... I know I can't.'

She silently guided him to the guest bedroom.

'Anything you need... just let me know, okay?'

'Sure, yeah. I'll try not to bother, though.'

Ron was about to take off his gown and put on pyjamas when he saw Hermione still standing at the door, her gaze fixed on him.

'I'm sorry, I'm... I'll leave now. Goodnight.'

He did not know it, but when Rose woke her up, past midnight, she sneaked to his bedroom and watched him sleeping, for she felt him closer in his slumber now.

* * *

_'Dear Molly and Arthur,_

_I hope with all my heart you are fine and everything is all right._

_Rose is doing __well, and she's growing larger and lively. We will drop by the Burrow very soon, and she will be happy to see you._

_I'm writing to you because it's my duty to let you know about this, although it's __painful for me. Ron got jinxed last Wednesday night, and he's got temporary amnesia. Do not worry, please: he's going to be fine in a couple of days. He's at home, in fact, although he doesn't recognize anybody. Please, don't worry and don't take the trouble to come here. The Healer said that he only needs to rest and doesn't have to get excited, so I'm trying not to overwhelm him, keeping him secluded at home._

_I'm trying to be as __strong as I can, but it's hard. However, I've got our daughter and I'm doing my best._

_Lots of love from,_

_Hermione'_

Hermione wiped her puffy eyes and sipped her tea. After she released Pig with the letter that Friday morning, she felt relieved, sharing her grief with somebody else, but worried at passing it over to Mr and Mrs Weasley.

She finally sighed and bent over Rose's buggy, where the baby girl amused herself with her floating toys, shrieking and kicking with her legs.

'Daddy's going to be back soon, Rosie.'

The Weasleys' answer did not take long to get to Hermione, and it caused her more grief than not writing at all, for she had to write three more times that day in order to convince Mrs Weasley, until her husband took over the situation.

After lunch, Ron stood up to clean up the table before Hermione did it. When he opened the fridge, he caught sight of a piece of chocolate cake left from the last weekend, Teddy Lupin's birthday party.

'Erm... do you reckon... would you mind if I have that, um, a piece of that cake? It tasted like glory,' he asked Hermione.

In shock, she said, 'How can you know that?'

'I have no idea...' Ron replied, furrowing his brow. 'Think I've tried it before, perhaps. Want to share?'

Hermione later asked him what he felt up to, once the cake had disappeared.

'Hm... What are you going to do?'

'Well, I had the cleaning left for today...'

'Perhaps I could watch after Rose while you do it? And... I was thinking, do you have any photograph albums?'

The photographs were a more solid encounter with his old self: all his family in Egypt; he in his father's arms as a little red-haired boy; he, Hermione and a black-haired boy (Harry, told him Hermione), standing in front of a huge castle that he recognized as Hogwarts; Hermione smiling arm in arm with a handsome boy (and Ron felt a somewhat familiar angry lurch); then, older now, Harry giving a piggy-back to a girl with fiercely red hair and he himself doing the same with Hermione, both couples running down a green field and laughing, and the picture of their wedding...

He did not recognize the happy person who was holding Hermione's face and kissing her as himself, but Hermione... He thought she was stunning in white, with her hair in soft curls, and kissing him back with the same passion. He hated himself for not being able to remember any of that, and her.

Night came, and Hermione was about to close the door to her bedroom behind her when Ron slid a hand through it.

'Can I talk to you for a second?'

She let him in.

'There's something wrong with the mattress in my bed, today I woke up rather pained,' he explained without hesitation. 'Perhaps it's just me, you know, I'm not quite right yet... I was wondering if, er, I could sleep here for the night. With you'

His wife nodded. She looked scared, which was not what he'd expected.

They got into bed. Hermione moved to the far edge, not wanting him to get uncomfortable and leave. Ron stretched his hand to hers; she held it tight in response. They stayed still for a while. Then, slowly, Hermione moved closer to him.

'You don't remember me yet, not a bit?'

'No, I'm sorry,' said Ron, knowing that he was breaking her hope again with that.

He pulled away his face and her lips brushed his cheek instead.

'That's not what you want...' He felt partly a fool, but he could not let her deceive herself. Her lashes batted wet against his skin; she got out of the bed and put on a night gown. 'Wait, where are you going?'

'To get some water.'

'You could conjure it.'

'I left my wand downstairs.'

'It's right here on your night stand!'

'Rose and I will sleep in the next bedroom, you stay here.'

'Please don't. If somebody has to sleep there, that'll be me.'

'You said the mattress hurt your back,' Hermione said coolly, even though her eyes were watering.

He gave no reply.

'Stay, it's your bedroom as well.'

Ron held her wrist.

'I'm really trying. I want to recover my memory. I thought this might help. But it feels–'

'Wrong,' she said, 'I know. To me, you're stranger in my husband's body. It gets harder to call you "Ron" every time. But I can't help it! What do you want me to do, just sit here, and wait?'

She threw herself on the bed and Ron held her on his lap as she sobbed. When she fell asleep, he wrapped her up and left the room.

* * *

The third day came. Hermione encouraged Ron to start using his wand again: he was practising now with a pillow, which levitated, changed shape and colour, turned into a huge yellow bird, exploded and reformed again at Ron's will. While he did so, he held Rose in his arms, murmuring to her things that Hermione could not hear from the kitchen.

But she watched him, pretending to be reading; she watched him as he polished his old Cleansweep and commented about the still chilly weather. She saw him tuning the Quidditch League Focus on the wireless to catch the Cannons match against the Falcons, before she left to give Rose a bath. She took a bunch of irises from the coffee table, which he had produced when practising. _Her_ flowers. _'Are you here yet, Ron?'_ she thought.

* * *

Late on Saturday, Hermione was having a bath, trying to relax and let go of all the blues for a minute. Everything was going to be normal soon. Although she had expected everything to be normal as soon as they left the hospital, now another day was almost over and it was not, but it could not last any longer.

The bathroom door opened and Ron started to enter, when he saw Hermione.

'Oh... I'm sorry,' he stumbled, going out and closing the door again, before Hermione managed to say anything.

Hermione left the bathroom shortly after, wearing her towel dressing gown, and found Ron pacing up and down the landing.

'Anything wrong?' she asked, convinced that a new problem was looming. Ron turned to her, startled.

'No. Well, I... wanted to tell you– to thank you for everything you've done for me these days. I'm sorry for all the pain and trouble I'm causing–'

Hermione cut him off, 'No, I'm fine–'

'Let me finish. I know you aren't fine, I can tell it's as horrible for you as it is for me. But the thing is... you bear it all without complaint, when you have me and your –our daughter–'

'Even though you can't remember it, you're my husband. I will care for you and for Rose as long as I breathe.'

Hermione's eyes were bright with tears again. Ron approached and grabbed Hermione's chin gently.

'Exactly.'

Their gazes stayed locked before Ron's mouth landed on her lips; Hermione felt her chest bursting with relief this time, and her hands snaked to his head and entangled with his hair, making her sense the overwhelming smell of it. She did not want to question anything. He was still her Ron. He brushed her cheeks and embraced her closer, the shape of her body under the towel brought back old feelings. He knew she was his Hermione.

* * *

'Hermione. Wake up, Hermione.'

She did not stir, but let out a trembling sigh in her dream.

'Wake up, love,' Ron moved her softly, and nestling closer in his arms, she shook her head. Ron chuckled. 'Why aren't you going to wake up?'

'Because this can't be more than a dream, and you're not _my_ Ron yet.'

'Sure I am,' replied Ron, kissing her.

Hermione raised her head quickly and looked into his eyes: he was not lying.

'Ron, you're– is it–?'

'Yes. I've been getting some hints, remembering little details, you know... Yet I didn't tell you because... because I still couldn't remember you. Last night every piece fell in its right place. I can't even tell how much I've missed you,' said Ron, retrieving her look.

She threw her arms round his neck.

'Ron, I missed you too! It's been awful, awful, the coldness and... and being so near to you, and yet so far!'

'I know. It was like... if I had a huge gap and yesterday everything burst out all of a sudden, and I realized of all the time I didn't know who I was, remembered everything, the accident, you talking to me. I couldn't believe how stupid it was,' said Ron gloomily, caressing her back.

'Rose missed you too, you know,' Hermione told him, closing her eyes for a moment before adding, 'Rose... Hasn't she woken up yet? What time is it?'

'Rosie woke up hours ago and I gave her a bottle, don't worry. Now she's asleep,' Ron assured her. 'It's eleven o'clock.'

'And what are we doing here?' replied Hermione in shock.

'I thought you liked to be here,' commented Ron. 'It's Sunday. Don't you think you deserve to rest, after all this business? I'll tell you what: I'll bring some breakfast upstairs and you wake up Rosie and bring her here, all right?'

Hermione kissed him again and rested her head on his shoulder.

'It's good to have you back.'


End file.
